


Clinical

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Hand Jobs, Intimacy, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal gives Will a bath to deep clean his wounds. It goes about how you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clinical

"Will, you must let me clean your wounds before they become infected."

Will Graham sat stiffly at the small kitchen table, drowning in clothes two sizes too big and shielding his bandaged cheek from the blast of the fan. "I can tend to myself, Hannibal," he said. There was no anger in his voice, only exhaustion.

Hannibal took a deep breath and immediately regretted it, as half-healed flesh pulled uncomfortably at his chest and back. "You tended to me when I could not. I can see you are in pain, Will."

"I'm sure I'll live," he said.

"Let me run you a bath," Hannibal offered. "Rest and soak a while."

Will understood that Hannibal wasn't inclined to give up on this proposition easily. On another day, he might have resisted, but something just beneath his raw skin craved Hannibal's touch as it had been on the cliff's edge: tentative and unmeasured. A bath would be clinical, he knew, but no touch between them ever stayed detached for long.

He stood awkwardly and walked with a broken gait to the bathroom, nodding that Hannibal was allowed to follow. Once behind the closed door, he began to unbutton his enormous plaid shirt and expose the blotchy and bandaged terrain of his chest.

Allowing Will a measure of privacy in his fumbling, Hannibal turned the tap on their bath and slipped his fingers underneath the water. As the sharp chill warmed for him, so did the scent of his partner. The beginning notes of sweat rose with the steam, and Hannibal focused on the faucet flow to refrain from undressing Will himself. Distractedly, he added a bit of cold water to cool off the bath, listening to the fluctuations of Will's breath.

Will watched his psychiatrist kneeling by the bath, his tailored shirt rolled up at the sleeves and revealing the thick outline of each bandage beneath. It occurred to Will that he would have to remove his boxers.

Hannibal turned back and smiled casually. "You needn't be embarrassed, Will. Let me help with the bandages." He rose and moved to stand close to Will, whose skin was warm with the effort of undressing and the anticipation of touch.

Will steeled himself as Hannibal's sure hands peeled back his bandages and placed them into the trash, revealing shiny red gashes, smears of clear discharge, and dark scabs. His face was last, and he winced as the tape pulled at his stitches.

Hannibal's fingers lingered too long there, at his scarred cheek, and he watched Will's eyes grow wet with the effort of enduring the moment.

When the last of the bandages had been stripped away, Will took advantage of Hannibal's turned back and quickly pulled his boxers down his thighs. He stepped out of them as Hannibal turned back, and he couldn't ignore the split second of surprise on Hannibal's face before he composed himself.

Hannibal leveled his eyes with Will's to avoid glancing between his legs at his soft cock. He had noticed, of course, that Will's perpetual flush extended below the belt, and his mouth watered despite himself.

Will climbed awkwardly into the tub, too thin and covered in scars. He tried not to look at his body. When Hannibal began to strip off his dress shirt, Will felt anger flare in his throat. The idea of his nakedness in comparison with Hannibal's was unbearable. "Afraid I'll splash you like a toddler?" His tone had bite.

Hannibal eased the shirt off his wrists, stiff and clearly hurting. "My back is particularly sore tonight. The steam from your bath may help."

Will ducked his head, embarrassed. "Yeah."

"Now, we should start with the abrasions on your chest." Hannibal moved to kneel on a towel at the edge of the tub. He picked up a white cloth and soaped it with body wash.

Will's eyes paused drowsily on the patch of hair lining Hannibal's chest. "Why are you doing this? I have working hands."

Hannibal pressed the cloth to Will's deepest scrape and, without warning, began to scrub.

Panic flooded Will's system. He lurched backward, shouting and splashing water everywhere.

Hannibal stopped and folded the cloth in half. Droplets trailed his neck. "That's why. Your pain threshold isn't high enough to do this to yourself."

"So what, then? Are you going to hold me down?"

Silence bled between them, and Hannibal licked his bottom lip. He watched Will's pupils blow.

In the warm water, Will's cock flushed and began to ache. "That's not -"

"Of course not," Hannibal said, returning the cloth to Will's chest. He tried in vain not to notice the beginnings of Will's erection. 

"You're looking, Hannibal," Will said, a slight shiver of fear and excitement giving him goosebumps. Part of him wanted to delay having his wounds disinfected. Part of him would have wanted this regardless.

Hannibal glanced up into Will's eyes, then back to his cuts. "Difficult to avoid. The human form is not something to hide, Will. Though I assure you, my work here is clinical."

Will shifted, suddenly brave. "I have trouble differentiating between clinical and intimate interactions. You saw to that, doctor."

Hannibal looked up fully, then. Under the clean scent of soap and steam, he could smell sweat, and musk, and blood. "Is this intimate?"

Will tipped his head back to rest on the wall of the tub, exposing the long line of his neck. "You were curious what would happen."

"Yes." Hannibal could feel the beginnings of a strain against his zipper. He leaned his hips forward an inch or so, until he could feel the cool fiberglass of the bath through his trousers.

"You wanted to take care of me - ahh -" Will hissed through his teeth when he felt the warm cloth enclose his cock. Hannibal's fingers, sure in their intention, gripped him tightly. He was so tender in the water, having not touched himself properly for weeks.

Hannibal caught Will's eyes as he moved his hand, slow and methodic. "Does it hurt when I touch you here?"

Will's face drained of color. "H-hannibal -" He closed his eyes and drew a rough breath.

"Look at me, Will." His voice was both commanding and unsteady.

Obediently, Will opened his eyes. The cloth rubbed so deftly against his head, his underside vein, his balls. He groaned, holding the sides of the bath for support.

Hannibal tsked, looking down briefly. "You haven't been taking care of yourself. You're in desperate need of this, Will."

Will whimpered, throat bobbing. He ached in Hannibal's fist, thick and red and bare.

Hannibal tightened his grip and moved in slower, more deliberate strokes.

"Please," Will managed, squirming.

Hannibal used his free hand to steady Will, gripping the back of his neck. "If I had undone my belt, I would have caught you staring, as well. My chest alone attracted your attention."

Will licked at his own parted lips, breathless. "Yes."

He squeezed beneath Will's cockhead with a practiced hand. "Let me take care of you, Will."

Will's breath hitched, and he came, thick and hot in the clear water. He trembled while Hannibal worked him through the aftershocks, dripping even as the cloth pressed into his slit. He whimpered.

"Shh," Hannibal cooed, playing idly with the hair at the back of Will's neck. "I'm going to have to run you another bath."


End file.
